


The Reflex

by sprucetree



Category: Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon)
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, F/M, Implied Tendi/Rutherford, Kissing, Mutual secret crushes, Pre-finale time period, Touch-Starved, alternating povs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprucetree/pseuds/sprucetree
Summary: Boimler's been acting weirdly distant around Mariner lately, and she's starting to wonder why.
Relationships: Brad Boimler/Beckett Mariner
Comments: 76
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I broke my own promise and am publishing the first chapter without having this whole fic done ahead of time. That could be a bad omen since my motivation hasn't been great lately, but hey, I'm trying it! Again, there are likely canon errors/misspellings or who knows what. I tried to brush up on my Star Trek lore while writing these fics, but I'm not the best at remembering everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed this whole season and I'm VERY curious what's going to be happening with these two in particular next season. As for this fic, I was kind of inspired by all the little moments in the show where Mariner was hanging all over Boimler (seriously, rewatch the show with that in mind-- it happens a lot). I think I even commented in my first fic before I changed my description that she was pretty comfortable with side-hugging or holding onto him. It's cute to me! But yeah, I hadn't seen anyone point that out, so I wanted to write about it.

“What’s up, Boims?” 

Mariner’s words sounded muffled from up above the control panel he was currently crouched in.

“Just fixing this sonic shower,” he replied distractedly, not even bothering to look up. “Ransom said they needed someone to take care of it ever since that visiting captain from the USS Anaheim tried to adjust the coils mid-shower and broke them.”

Trying to ignore the ache starting to form in his knees from the awkward angle and the cold hard floor, he took another glance at the jumble of wires inside the three-foot-wide box in the back of the shower. Admittedly, he wasn’t as familiar with the inner mechanisms of this device as he was with some others, and he had pretty much been focusing solely on this task for… what? A few hours now? He didn’t even have the time to check. He just knew his patience was starting to reach its limit.

A small chuckle came from above. “Oh, yeah,” she snorted knowingly, “I remember that guy! Man, they really just let anyone climb the ranks nowadays.”

Stifling a frustrated sigh, Boimler shot back, “You know, I’m sure he had a reason for doing that.”

“Uh-huh, and the reason was that he was stupid. Here, move over.”

Before he could protest, she squeezed next to him in the tiny space, barely giving him time to react. Immediately, they were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder as he felt the slight tickle of her ponytail against his ear. Then, she reached out with one hand to examine the exposed panel, bringing it closer to her gaze.

“Don’t touch that!” he cried with an air of exasperation. It was bad enough she was constantly interjecting herself into his business every other day of the week, but he really wasn't in the mood today. “I have everything right where I want it, and--

“Oh, oh! I almost forgot. Speaking of captains,” she continued with a chuckle, ignoring his complaints about the wires and circuits she was currently still poking at. “That one blonde Andorian from Delta shift-- the chick we saw on the way to bridge duty last Friday who we _swore_ glared at us-- was totally freaking out because she thought that she had accidentally lost her com-badge. And it turns out Freeman had just gotten done yelling at all the ensigns on the bridge for taking off their badges after away missions. So--”

As Mariner continued to talk, Boimler worked silently, only half-listening to her words. Most of the time, his protests to be left alone fell on deaf ears; he was well-aware this wouldn’t be the last time she ignored him. 

_There she goes again, not listening to me. Like, what the hell? I’m not even replying,_ he thought bitterly. _Is she that bored? Does she like to annoy me in particular? Or does she just want to talk and doesn’t care who listens? Seriously, why is she always--_

Turning slightly to the left to grab the metal casing for one of the components while still balancing on his knees, Boimler paused. He was suddenly aware of something warm covering his upper back. Casually glancing out of the corner of his eye, he realized that at some point Mariner had wrapped her arm around him, her hand hanging loosely enough onto his shoulder that he hadn’t registered it before.

_When had she done that?_

Still picking through the casings, he tried to ignore the feel of the warmth of her skin through his shirt, but instead the only thing that came to his mind was the surprising amount of other times she had done something similar. 

Her shaking his shoulders with both hands in excitement at the news there’d be a new addition to the bar, her ruffling his hair sarcastically after he mentioned he needed a trim, her leaning against him in the hall close enough to whisper in his ear that the lieutenant walking next to them accidentally had his fly down. The more he thought about it, the more he realized just how frequently she--

“Hey dude, hello? Those do _not_ connect there.” Breaking into his thoughts with an exasperated voice, Mariner leaned closer and tried to wrestle the lime green wires from his grasp. For some reason, the feeling of her hands, one grabbing onto his and the other one trying to pry the wires out, made him tense up. He tried to twist away but she edged closer, her shoulders pressed up against his in the enclosed space. 

She let out an annoyed sigh. “Come on, give me them!” 

“I-- no!” Suddenly panicked for some reason at the closeness and how he could feel her breath against his cheek, he shuffled back, abandoning his grip on the wires, and jumped up. His legs ached from crouching so long, but all he could concentrate on was pacing to the corner of the room to try to shake off that weird burst of emotion that just coursed through him. 

_That was… strange._ If he didn’t know better, he would have thought that he was embarrassed. But not the kind of embarrassment he felt often in front of the bridge crew or in the academy when he had answered a question a little too loudly and got dead silence in return, it was the kind he felt in front of… some women. Specifically women he was attracted to. 

The thought made him bite the inside of his mouth.

 _No way, no way in hell. I do_ not _feel that way about Mariner. Nope._

It wasn’t hard to see why it was so out of the question. The two of them had butted heads ever since they first met, and quite frankly, he couldn’t think of someone who was less likely to harbor romantic feelings for him in return. 

The terrifying second thought that popped into his head was about how she would react if he did act on these-- hypothetical, of course-- feelings. He could almost hear the peels of laughter echoing from the ensigns’ quarters and feel the never-ending heat of embarrassment following him for however many months because he, of all people, dared to feel that way about her. 

He was already enough of a laughingstock when it came to looking cool, or even marginally competent, in front of other people. Considering she teased him over a hundred lesser things, she would never let that particular fact go. Ever.

“Oh, come on! Ugh, these wires are all bent now. Your petite little boy hands somehow tore them all up,” came the disgusted yell from Mariner under the control panel, voice muffled slightly by the metal sides. All he could see was her feet sticking out, the Starfleet logos on the bottom of them grinning back up at him like dignified crescent moons.

He didn’t even feel angry enough to muster up a convincing reply to her snide dig. Instead, he nervously tapped his fingers against his pants leg and called back lightly, “Uh, oops. Well. M-Maybe it’s time for you to go, anyway.” 

A pause and then a scoff came from below. “Good luck fixing that alone, then.” He saw her duck back out of the panel and stand up, shooting daggers at him as she made her way out of the room. The door automatically shut behind her, and he was left standing alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Now that he noticed once how much she touched him, he couldn’t stop noticing. 

Soon after lunch the next day, where he ate his sandwich and baby carrots in record time, Boimler stood in the cargo bay, doing his best to catalogue the new shipment of dilithium crystals that had just come in. 

_Three… four… wait, where’s the fifth one? Hmm._ For some reason, he didn’t see the additional crate anywhere else in the stack. Confused, he bent down to examine them closer.

“Hey, there you are. Didn’t see you at lunch today.”

Jerking his head up, Boimler almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of Mariner’s voice. 

“Oh, hey! Yeah, I had to get started on this, uh, right away,” he scrambled to say as he saw her approach from the entrance. Instead of her usually cocky grin, she actually looked… concerned? 

“Woah, Boims, you’re like, extra tense today,” she stated with a hint of confusion in her voice. “Were you too busy kissing ass to sleep last night or something?” Ambling over to where he was standing, she rested her hand flat on his back, right between his shoulderblades. The touch made his heart almost skip a beat.

“Or… something,” he managed to eek out, and thankfully, his voice was mostly steady. He had no clue how much longer he would be able to keep the cool, calm, and collected act up, he suddenly realized in a panic. 

Clearly unimpressed with his non-answer, Mariner rolled her eyes. “Alright, then,” she mumbled out of the corner of her mouth. 

But instead of walking away, she continued to stand there, absentmindedly glancing at the maintenance shift messages appearing on her PADD as she kept her hand rested on him. All he could think about was how close she was. And whatever that scent was that seemed to be part of her clothing. Was it lavender? Rose? He knew it was some sort of calming flowery scent, which in the back of his mind he thought was amusing, considering how much it clashed with the rest of her persona. But it was… nice, actually. Fragrant without being cloying. Weird, he had never noticed that about her before.

 _Damn it, I can’t keep standing here,_ he thought to himself nervously, cutting off his own stream of thought before it spiraled out of control.

Unfortunately, Boimler had no idea how to make a graceful exit, and improvising was never his strong suit. 

“I, uh, gotta go,” he eventually blurted out in a rush, and dodged out of her grasp, holding his own PADD protectively in front of him as he started to powerwalk out of the room. He probably had to ask Ransom about the missing crystals anyway. So, this was totally warranted. Right? 

He didn’t get further than the doors before he heard her calling from behind. “Wait, wait, wait.” 

“Hmm, what?” Boimler replied as casually as he could as he kept walking without looking back. However, his voice betrayed him by rising slightly at the end. _Crap,_ he thought to himself miserably. _There’s no way she’s not going to see through that._

The sound of footprints came up behind him, easily keeping pace with his stride. “Did you piss someone on board off? You’re way more twitchy than normal, even for you.” 

“I… me? No, of course not! Everything’s fine!” He made a little dismissive noise with his mouth and waved his hand as casually as he could. 

“Yeah, I really doubt that.” Mariner’s voice was dripping in sarcasm and then suddenly became a lot more serious. “Dude, are you sweating?” 

Feeling his heart rate spike, Boimler managed to stutter out, “Y-You know, I think I may go to sickbay. Yeah. Maybe I’m coming down with something.” 

Mariner had her arms crossed, and when he twisted around enough to catch her eyes, she was frowning. “Uh, alright.” 

Noting the upcoming hallway to his right, he turned on his heel and marched off, making his way down towards the sickbay entrance. The last thing he noticed was Mariner standing with one eyebrow raised, watching him as he left. 

* * *

The little arrows on the screen blinked in perfect unison again. And again. And again. And--

_Ugh. This is boring as hell._

Mariner was standing idly at her usual station on the bridge, half-looking at the planetary map on the screen in front of her and half-glancing at the entrance. It was about midway through her shift, but more importantly, it was past the time that Boimler usually showed up for the start of his shift. Glancing at the time ticking away on-screen, she clicked her tongue quietly to herself.

 _Hmm, wow. He’s never been this late before,_ she thought with a raised eyebrow. Usually, he was the one trying to usher her along to whatever station they had to be at next. 

_Then again… dude’s been acting kind of weird lately._ She tapped her fingernail on the hard edge of the info panel. _Really weird._

It wasn’t unusual for him to be a bit jumpy, but lately it was like he was ready for the whole ship to explode or something. She had tried to question him about it, but each time she said anything, he mysteriously excused himself and wandered off. 

Mariner was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn’t notice the purposeful throat clearing coming from behind her. Blinking once, she turned around with a glare only to see her mom glaring back at her. 

“Mariner. Stand up straight,” the captain said in a low voice, glancing at her daughter’s elbow splayed on the control table and her one foot bent out behind the other one. 

Mariner narrowed her eyes in return. “Fine.” 

Slowly uncurling her feet and straightening her back, she tossed a bitter glance over her shoulder and stood wordlessly as the two continued to lock eyes. She was sure that to the other few crew members on the bridge this exchange looked far more severe than it felt to the two of them. The comments, the glances, the not-so-subtle suggestions about how to look or behave… when you were the daughter of an admiral and a captain, none of them really struck fear into you after a while. She had been knee-deep in Starfleet bureaucratic bullshit before she could even spell the organization’s name; a bit of conflict with authority was nothing new to her.

Hell, it even happened after all the planets she’d been to and all the time she spent onboard serving alongside her mom. Mariner couldn’t even remember the last time the two had talked in private about something other than work, work, work. Still. Guess it beat the once-a-year in-person visits she usually got with her dad, shoved in between his back to back meetings with other admirals. 

After a second’s pause, Freeman let out a small annoyed sigh-- clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to argue further-- and then continued her sweep of the bridge, calling out some instructions to Ransom without a single glance back at Mariner. 

Rolling her eyes as far back as they could go, Mariner jabbed at the recalibration button in the corner of the screen. At least that’d be something to do. Trying to ignore the growing frustration in the back of her mind, she had just finished the sequence when she heard a familiar voice pipe up behind her.

“Sorry I’m late, Cap’n. Just uh, making sure all the crystals near the loading bay were properly placed!” 

A pause. “Thank you ensign, but it’s not really necessary to update me on what you were doing. You can just… head to your station.” 

“Can do!” he replied a bit too enthusiastically, which was then followed by a nervous chuckle. 

_Finally! I’ve got so much shit to catch him up on,_ Mariner thought with a devious smile. Freeman would let some of her smartass remarks slip without much pushback, but she knew that there was a limit to how much she could say out loud to everyone in earshot. And if she were being honest, Boimler’s typical dry interjections and varied overreactions to whatever gossip she had only made the conversation more interesting.

She casually glanced down at her screen as he stood at the control panel to her right, waiting for him to get situated before walking over like she normally did. From the corner of her vision, she could have sworn he was purposefully avoiding looking her way. 

_Weird. He better not be all twitchy again._

Checking once more that no sign of debris showed up on-screen, she decided it was fine to duck out for a bit. Inconspicuously shuffling behind Boimler, who was busy checking the graphs in front of him, she leaned forward and whispered into his ear with a snicker. “Hey, did you see that T’Ana’s got her lab coat on inside out today?” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Boimler instantly jerked forward, accidentally slamming himself face-first against the metal panel in front of him loudly enough that most of the bridge crew looked over. 

“Everyone alright there?” Freeman asked dryly as she surveyed the two of them, one hand under her chin and another resting on the arm of her seat. 

“Yeah! Yeah, yes, Captain,” Boimler quickly stuttered out, taking two steps to his left and roughly brushing his uniform off. A painfully awkward and obviously forced smile spread over his face. “Everything’s fine.”

Mariner simply crossed her arms in reply, throwing a glance at Boimler before looking back at Freeman. The woman stared her down for only a second, a faint hint of tiredness in her gaze, then turned back around to the front of the ship without another word. 

Still quietly fuming that he drew so much attention in such a dumb way, Mariner pretended to be busy looking at the sensors to her left for a minute, and then ducked back beside Boimler again, almost shoulder to shoulder. Her hands roughly pressed the nearest touchscreen buttons in rapid succession as she tried to make herself busy.

“Seriously?” she eventually hissed, only twisting around enough to see him out of the corner of her vision. 

Boimler didn’t reply. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, his mouth pressed in a straight line. If she didn’t know better, she’d assume he was as equally pissed as she was, but she saw the way his one foot was tapping rapidly and the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. It didn’t take a genius to realize he was acting just as odd today as he was a few days ago. This issue wasn’t going away. 

She let out a frustrated groan as quietly as she could and gritted her teeth once she tried to whisper again. “Okay, Boimler, for real, what is with you lately? It’s like you don’t even want to _talk_ to me. What’s eating at you? What happened?”

She watched his face contort into his trademark awkward grimace, and then into a more subdued expression she couldn’t quite place.

“Nothing. Just…” Turning to face her, he started to open his mouth, but pressed it closed again the second they finally locked eyes. “N-Nothing.” 

“That’s such _bullshit_ and you know it,” she whispered, leaning even closer. She could feel herself getting more and more annoyed by the minute. “Just tell me. C’mon, I’ve seen you do _so_ many other dumb things. Trust me, whatever this is isn’t going to make a difference to me. Promise.” 

Almost immediately, he leaned further away, his shoulders drooping as he turned back to look at the screen. Oddly, she felt an unexpectedly bitter pang of sadness in her stomach at his listless reaction. Whatever his problem was, he must not even trust her enough to _try_ to talk about. Maybe they weren’t as close as she assumed. The thought made her press the screen of the sensor she was currently checking even harder than before. 

“Fine. Whatever,” she mumbled under her breath, straightening up so she wasn’t bent so close to him. She saw him glance uneasily her way and then go back to work. With one last push, she turned away from the panels and went back to her own station, feeling more confused than ever. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up changing the plot juuuuust a smidge from my original plan, which meant I changed the tags, plus I have no clue how long this will end up being. Totally made up all the planet names this time around. Again, any canon discrepancies are my bad but I enjoy feedback either way. Thank you so much for all your comments and follows! You guys rock.

“Can I get another whiskey over here? Please and thank you.”

Mariner leisurely tapped the edge of the bar stool she was sitting at, glancing around the room with a content sigh. Nothing was better than getting off a shift and heading straight to the bar in the upper decks. There was just something about the lighting and the atmosphere, and possibly the fact that synthehol was involved, that made it feel like she could just sit here forever.

Next to her, some ensigns-- maybe from Alpha shift, if she had to guess-- were all whooping in unison and pounding their hands on the table as one of their friends gulped down a shot. Mariner found herself smiling just a little at their antics, but then felt a pang of frustration in her gut.

_Dammit, I’m here alone. Again. Third night this week._

Her weird encounter with Boimler on the bridge had been in the back of her mind for days now. And, even more concerning, she knew it was the same for Boimler, since the two had been not-so-subtly avoiding each other, except for the few minutes at night or morning when they were silently climbing in and out of their bunk beds in the lower decks. 

She didn’t have any further clues for his sudden distant behavior, and part of her wanted to just forget anything ever happened. But she knew sooner or later, they’d have to talk about it. 

With a quiet groan at that last thought, she turned back to face the bar. Thankfully, one ice cold whiskey was sitting in front of her in a glass already, sides glimmering with droplets. Tipping her head back, she felt its delightfully malty aftertaste right away. As soon as she went to turn back around, she heard two familiar voices come up from behind her.

“... and the whole problem could’ve been fixed if they had just run diagnostics! It was crazy. Anyway, Billups should be totally recovered by tomorrow, so at least it didn’t turn out too bad.”

“Oh, wow! Good thing the door was latched, then.”

A small snort. “Yeah, for real.”

Mariner whipped her head around, instantly feeling more energized at the sight of her friends. “Hey, Tendi, Rutherford, over here!”

With two equally wide grins, they made their way to the edge of the bar, dodging the few commanders and ensigns still standing around or picking up their own drinks. Rutherford sat down first, while Tendi furrowed her eyebrows at a messy stack of napkins sitting out to Mariner’s left. 

“Lemme just do this really quick,” she said distractedly, already stepping toward the stack. Tendi quickly began flipping the errant patterns right side up, taking care to not rip or tear any of them.

“Aww, don’t you organize enough stuff in medbay?” Mariner playfully teased her, reaching out to lightly punch Tendi on the shoulder. She got a small giggle from the Orion in reply. 

“It’s gonna annoy me if I don’t!”

“Alright, alright.”

Rutherford, already done with asking the bartender for cocktails for himself and Tendi, twisted around in his seat. “Hey, has anyone seen Boimler around?”

At the mention of his name, Mariner tipped her head back and groaned. “No. I have not. And that’s fine with me.”

Tendi and Rutherford exchanged a confused glance before Tendi piped up. “What’s wrong?”

“Ugh, I have no clue what’s going on with him lately. Like, seriously! The dude’s a total mess, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.” She took another big swig of her whiskey, feeling the ice cubes clink against the front of her teeth. Then, she paused. “Actually, no, I don’t,” she muttered with an eye roll after setting her glass back down.

Pausing in her napkin-related task, Tendi stared at her with a suddenly quizzical expression all over her face. “What do you mean?”

Mariner sighed wearily. “Holy shit, where to start? Well, he’s been avoiding me like crazy the last few days. I don’t think we’ve had one full conversation at _all_. And I swear every time I get close to him, he runs away like a little purple-haired deer in the headlights.”

“Hmm, that’s odd,” Tendi said innocently, placing one hand on her chin and putting on her trademark serious face, which Mariner had to admit was one of the least intimidating facial expressions she’d ever seen on another person. It was lucky Tendi worked in medical and not counseling, since Mariner had a feeling her clients would be able to see right through her obvious fishing for details.

“Like, I dunno. At first I thought he was pissed at me, and now… I have no clue.” 

Rutherford tilted his head in thought. “I can’t really think of any reason he’d be upset with you, Mariner. I mean, I haven’t talked to him much lately, but I know he mentioned he was happy to go with you to Sharulthia when they picked two ensigns to scope out their new ion fields.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Tendi chimed in excitedly. “And last week, he mentioned something about that band you recommended. The one from Arcula IV? He said he really thought you had good taste in music.” 

“Huh.” Mariner actually had no clue he talked so much about her to other people, especially about dumb stuff like music recommendations. Or the assignments they had to do. For some reason, she shifted a bit in her seat. 

Rutherford turned toward Tendi, leaning just a bit forward. “Ooh, that reminds me, do you remember when he was trying to get the model of guitar she had for a birthday--” 

To her left, Mariner saw Tendi grimace and shake her head back and forth, but it was too late.

Rutherford’s cheeks blushed a light pink and he sheepishly leaned back just a bit in his barstool. “Uh. If he asks, don’t tell him I let that slip.” 

“Don’t worry dude, I can act surprised with the best of them,” Mariner chuckled, leaning over to give Rutherford a reassuring pat on the back. 

_Huh, the little dork remembered my birthday’s next month,_ she thought to herself amusedly. As she listened to Tendi and Rutherford chat a little more and sip at their drinks, it hit her that she couldn’t really remember his birthday. Instinctively, she reached for her glass of whiskey and held it. 

“So, yeah, I really doubt he hates you,” Rutherford concluded, turning to face Mariner. Blinking a bit, she lifted her head up from staring at the counter.

Then she shrugged, keeping her hand on the cool glass in front of her. “Maybe.”

“I mean, what exactly were you doing when he acted all weird?” Tendi questioned, eyebrows furrowed. The napkins were close to being lined up by now, but she had stopped to hear her friend’s reply. 

“I don’t know. Nothing much. Just kind of talking to him. And like…” Mariner paused, thinking about all the times she had last talked to him. 

The time in the sonic showers. The time on the bridge. The time in the cargo bay. For some reason, she hadn’t connected the incidents until now, but the more she played the moments over in her mind, the more she realized all three times he had seemed extra skittish when she got closer to him. Huh. 

“Kind of leaning on him. Like this.” She reached out and demonstrated with Tendi, roping one arm around her. “Or this.” Turning around, she put an elbow on Rutherford’s shoulder.

Now that she observed her own behavior, it did seem awkwardly intimate. Almost like she had been trying to intimidate him in a way. But that wasn’t really the case at all. She had always been a pretty physically affectionate person, much to her more stoic parents’ chagrin, so doing that to people she cared about had never seemed odd to her. Until now.

“Oh.” Tendi’s voice was calm, but out of the corner of her eye, Mariner saw her and Rutherford exchange a pointed but brief look as Mariner turned back to her seat. 

“Alright, hold up, what was _that_ about?” Mariner questioned with more than a hint of suspicion in her voice. 

“Hmm, nothing!” Tendi grinned a bit too widely back at her, reaching over to set the newly-organized stack of napkins back at their place on the bar counter. On Mariner’s other side, Rutherford took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze bouncing between the two girls over the rim of the glass.

“C’mon, not you guys too!” Slumping dejectedly in her seat, she pounded one fist on the table. A Vulcan ensign in a red shirt sitting further down glanced over nervously at the sound before shifting his attention back to his drink. “What the hell is with everyone?” she groaned, dragging her hands over her face.

This time, Tendi and Rutherford gave each other a more serious glance, as Rutherford scratched his hand and Tendi shifted in her seat.

“Hello? You two are the worst liars ever. Drop the mind-reading act and just tell me what you think.”

Emboldened by Mariner’s words, Tendi turned to her and started to speak, her voice hesitant. 

“Well… Rutherford and I had kind of noticed before, that um--”

Suddenly, a loud beeping noise made all three turn to their right. Laying on the counter was Tendi’s PADD, its screen lighting up with the telltale signs of a new message. In a flash, Tendi reached over with both hands and brought it closer to her face. 

“Oh, shoot!” Standing up so fast she almost knocked her barstool to the ground, Tendi’s eyes grew wide as she hurriedly read out the text. “Doctor T’ana’s requesting all medical staff report immediately to medbay. Something about a… warp core accident?” 

“Oh no.” Rutherford went to stand along with her, but she had already started to dodge other bar patrons in order to make her way out the door. 

Tendi turned back on her heel and bounced up enough to see him through the crowd. “It’s ok! Don’t wait for me!” 

“Alright!” Rutherford waved once, and then paused. Slumping back in his seat, he muttered to himself under his breath, “Man, I hope the warp core isn’t too badly damaged.” 

“On this ship, anything’s possible,” Mariner stated with a shrug. “But yeah, I think it’ll be ok. It’s seen worse, I’m sure.” Rutherford nodded in reply.

With a sigh, Mariner turned back to her drink. Two half-melted ice cubes sat sadly in the bottom, surrounded by a small pool of whiskey. With one determined gulp, she finished it off. 

“Now…” Mariner turned a bit toward him, gauging his reaction out of the corner of her eye. “What were you both trying to say before Tendi had to skip on out of here?” 

“Oh.” Rutherford’s face suddenly went blank. “Um… well…” 

Mariner sat with a raised eyebrow as Rutherford tried to collect his thoughts. 

“We just noticed that, uhh, maybe you and Boimler…” His voice trailed off as he grimaced again. “Not really sure how to say this, but…” 

For some reason, Mariner felt uncomfortable sitting still. Resting her foot against the metal rungs of the barstool underneath, she jiggled her right leg a bit in place as she kept her eyes on Rutherford. 

“Yeah, what?” she prompted.

He didn’t look at her in the eyes. “Oh, just that maybe…” Still making a face, he paused, seemingly right at the precipice of what he truly wanted to say. Finally, he opened his mouth again and blurted out his next words. 

“That maybe he had a crush on you.” 

Mariner froze. Time seemed to stop.

“Or you on him! We weren’t really sure!” Rutherford continued to explain in a panic. Wincing for what must have been the upteenth time that night, he rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. 

When she didn’t reply right away, he added quickly, “We just wondered. You know? You both are pretty close to each other. And you hang out a lot alone, just the two of you.” 

Instantly defensive for reasons she couldn’t really put into words, Mariner rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “And? So do you and Tendi!” 

“Yeah, true. And that’s why we… I… wanted to ask.”

Mariner sat quietly for a second, absorbing what he just said. _Oh._ The little shared looks and familiar banter she’d seen between the two of them suddenly made a whole lot more sense now. 

“Hmm.” Looking straight at him, she saw he was slightly blushing. Without skipping a beat, he started to talk again. 

“I mean, sometimes… when you spend a lot of time around someone and you get to know them really well, it can be tough to know what to say when those feelings... change, you know?” Rutherford seemed to be speaking more to the bar counter than Mariner, but she nodded in agreement anyway. She could sort of tell what he was getting at, in his own unique Rutherford-y way. 

“But do you really think _that’s_ what’s happening with me and Boimler?” she asked dryly as she rolled her eyes. Part of her felt like bursting out into laughter right then and there, and the other half just felt… 

Actually, she didn’t know _what_ she felt. All she knew was that that particular surge of emotion made her want to jump up from her overly cushioned bar stool and punch or run or kick something. Anything. 

Oblivious to the thoughts running through her mind, Rutherford gave her a small shrug as an apologetic smile quickly appeared on his face. “I-I don’t know. It’s just a possibility.” 

“Hmm.” Mariner declined to say anything else out loud at the moment. Instead, she looked in the bottom of her empty drink, slowly tilting it back and forth under the dim bar lighting as this new possibility took root in her mind. 

* * *

A muffled cough echoed sharply throughout the ensigns’ quarters. In an instant, Mariner snapped her eyes open, stifling a sigh as all hope of falling asleep at a regular time left her mind.

 _If any of these people cough literally_ one _more time, I’m gonna lose it._

Normally, she didn't mind the various sounds and gentle breathing of the ensigns surrounding her, but tonight was different. Instead of falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, she’d been tossing and turning, trying to come to a conclusion about the discussion she had hours prior. 

_Pssh. Who cares what Tendi and Rutherford think. Obviously I don’t like him like that. I mean, c’mon. Brad Boimler? The same guy who almost got caught in a sinkhole on Populi III because he was too busy asking Ransom what greeting he should say to the visiting diplomat instead of watching where he was going? The dude who went to Freeman’s ready room six different times with questions about Starfleet’s dress code? Seriously?_

If she hadn’t been surrounded by sleeping ensigns, she would have laughed out loud. Feeling the weight of the blanket above her, she shifted a bit in her bunk, turning her face to the wall. 

_He’s not that bad._

Mariner tensed up at the errant thought. _I mean, I guess. If you like kiss-ass dorks who don’t know the first thing about the real world._

She paused a moment. 

_But he’s… nice. In a weirdly eager kind of way. If you’re into that._ The idea sat with her a second longer before she quickly thought, _And it’s not like it matters: there’s no way in hell he feels the same way about me. Not after…_

Curling up a little more in the covers, she grimaced as she recounted all the times she had teased him or tried to provoke him. Far too many times. There’s no way any guy wouldn’t take at least a bit of that to heart. Right?

Feeling a rush of relief at that conclusion-- _That’s odd,_ she thought aimlessly about her own reaction, but quickly pushed the thought back down-- she crossed her arms and leaned her head back up to look at the cold metal ceiling of the bunk. She could see the slick welded lines curved down all around her, and sometimes when she couldn’t sleep she would count the perfectly made dimples in the material. 

_He’s kind of cute._

“Noooope!” she hissed under her breath before she could stop herself, grasping the blankets on both sides of her and bringing them up to her face. 

_Ugh, what the hell?!_ She could feel her cheeks heat up just a bit at the words. _Where is this coming from? If this is another parasite situation, I’m gonna be so pissed._

Unable to stay alone with her thoughts a minute longer, she lazily shoved the covers off herself and leaned forward to open the shelving unit near her bunk. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d aimlessly scrolled through old Starfleet training documents in a desperate attempt to dull her mind enough to sleep. Her nightmares were always worse on the Quito, so she had gradually fallen away from the habit once she got transferred to the Cerritos. But once in a while, she’d still wake up in a cold sweat, unsure where she was until she heard the light sounds of snoring around her. 

Silently pressing the drawer open, she had just managed to untangle her PADD from the layers of clothing surrounding it when she paused. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the familiar curve of Boimler’s face laying against the pillow in the bunk below. His eyes were closed, with his mouth open just a little bit as he breathed in and out, fast asleep. 

For a few seconds, Mariner just stayed crouched there, not daring to move. Maybe it was because no one else was awake, maybe it was how peaceful he looked, maybe it was because of all the weird, obviously-parasite-induced thoughts in her mind, but there was something in her that just made her want to lean down and hug him. 

_Damn it,_ was the last thought Mariner had before turning back to her pillow. _This isn’t good._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have any excuse for the multi-month delay beyond the fact I feel very unconfident in my own writing, and I've been in a slump where anything I write seems bland and out-of-character, including about 5k of another oneshot (set in the future with them on their own ship) that I eventually shelved after thinking it would get done first (I even replied to people in the comments about it!). Which led to me feeling frustrated I didn't just work on this chapter first instead of delaying stuff. Maybe that oneshot will eventually get done? I hope.
> 
> But I still love these two, and I'm blown away by all the kudos, follows, and comments. I'm genuinely so flattered you all care about this story! Mostly because I'm still kind of making up the details as I go along so any feedback is always appreciated. :)

Mariner took a deep breath out, leaning against the wall of the isolinear cores. For the first time in a long, long time, she had actually shown up bright and early to her shift instead of making sure to slip in at the last possible second. A sacrifice she was willing to make, considering the circumstances.

 _Alright, three, four, and… five little pieces fit into these holes. And screw the top on, and… done._ With a satisfied rap of her knuckles on the solid dove-gray container, she shoved the main circular core she was working on back into the wall. Staring down, she took in the remaining rows and rows of metal boxes filled with smaller cores she had yet to catalogue. 

In her mind, she started to go over her plan again. _Ok. First, I just have to get the cores in the wall switched and then I can take these and reorganize them in the next hallway, away from--_

Before she could finish her thought, she saw the familiar red shirt and dark hair of the one person she was trying to avoid.

_Shit._

Boimler walked toward her, PADD in hand and eyes focused somewhere on the wall of cores. With a short wave to show he noted her presence-- one that he couldn’t even meet her eyeline while doing, she noticed-- he silently scampered over to the wall and yanked the nearest one open. 

Mariner did the same, trying not to focus on how painfully and uncharacteristically weird it was to not talk to him. Sure, he had been acting strange the last few days, but the fact that _she_ now felt awkward about chatting him up, standing near him, casually slinging an arm around him… it sucked. There was no other way to say it.

Mostly because, weirdly enough, he was the one person who didn’t seem to mind her getting all up in his personal space. Her mom was never someone who enjoyed hugs; she tolerated them, usually. Sometimes when Mariner did something especially worthy of praise-- acing her academy exams, getting promoted back before she became too jaded to want to even _try_ moving up the ranks, or even just impressing a visiting dignitary who was eating dinner at their house with a particularly arcane bit of knowledge-- she’d get a quick pat on the shoulder or even a stiff arm wrapped around her that was gone before she could savor it. It wasn’t her mom’s fault. It’s just how she was, and Mariner understood that. Her only saving grace was that her dad was a bit more like herself when it came to giving and getting affection. But it also meant she keenly felt it when he was gone for long stretches of time and she couldn’t see him face to face, which was depressingly often.

But, she told herself as she opened the next circular container, it wasn’t like Boimler was the _only_ person she’d felt comfortable enough with to try to get close to like that. Rutherford and Tendi-- and hell, tons of her friends she had met over the years-- never seemed to flinch away or appeared displeased at her hanging on them from time to time. In fact, most of them barely reacted. Sometimes, she wondered if anyone even noticed how often she reached out. 

But even taking into account all the other people she knew, for some reason it just wasn’t… the same with Boimler. 

Maybe it was because they were practically the same height almost to the inch, or maybe it was how he hunched just enough to let her slip her arm around him almost subconsciously whenever she reached out, or maybe it was how she was able to easily get close enough to stare him right back into his eyes. Or maybe it was how he never seemed scared to stick around her, no matter how often he got tossed around by alien creatures, stabbed with a bat’leth, or slammed against some kind of wall or floor. Maybe it was something about how perfectly they fit together in so many weird little ways, even though on paper they couldn’t be more different. But no matter what it was, she just always felt a little bit more at ease whenever she was near him. Not that she’d ever say that last part out loud. Absentmindedly rubbing her arm, she shoved the last core container closed with an extra bit of unnecessary force and then turned around. 

While she was lost in her thoughts, Boimler had hunched down on the floor and started opening the boxes full of core pieces.

 _Dammit, dude!_ At this point, it would be weird if she were to drag away the boxes so she could open them in the other hallway. She felt a flash of annoyance at the fact he had accidentally ruined her plan without even trying. Now, all that was left was to crouch down and help while somehow still not talking or looking at each other. Great.

Still, with a quick roll of her eyes and a weird sense of irritation growing in her stomach, she hesitantly got down on the floor and dragged the closest box over to her just enough to give them a few feet of space apart. Cracking it open, she saw the pieces all mixed up by size and color, haphazardly strewn across the inside. 

_Oh, what, thousands of people on board and none of them could've taken five minutes to learn their colors and shapes?_ Suppressing a chuckle, she instinctively turned her head to the right to say the same thing out loud and then paused. _Nope. No talking._

Next to her, Boimler went about his business. Taking one piece out, placing it in the correct pile, continuing with the next one. Focused on the task at hand like usual. 

Out of the corner of her vision, she kept her gaze on him as he continued to work. Maybe… this wouldn’t be as awkward as she feared. Maybe all that shit Rutherford and Tendi had said was just speculatory, just a reflection about what _they_ felt about each other. Not necessarily what was going on between her and Boimler. Huh.

That thought made her relax a bit more.

_Yeah, that’s not what’s going on here. I mean, seriously. Something must have been wrong with me last night. Too many replicator tacos too late in the day. Or whatever._

Leaning back as she shifted through the smaller cores, she let herself look around freely. The hallway was empty except for the two of them, which made it a pretty relaxing shift. She let her mind wander as she continued to sort her own box out into three haphazardly strewn piles. 

Suddenly to her right, she heard a sharp crack. Whipping her head around, she saw Boimler guiltily holding a now-chipped core piece.

Opening her mouth without thinking, she blurted out with a laugh, “Wow, breaking Starfleet property already? It’s not even noon yet.”

Boimler looked up, instantly way too guilty even for his normal levels of panic. “N-No, I didn't mean to--” 

Then, almost like he tasted something bitter, he grimaced quickly as he looked back down. To her surprise, instead of continuing to protest, he reached over to the pile again and went back to work sorting. 

_Seriously?_ Suddenly emboldened and a bit annoyed by the fact he still apparently wasn’t up to talking like normal, she slowly leaned to the side and rearranged her legs so that she was sitting just a few inches closer to him. Glancing at the box he was currently working on emptying, she noticed that it was still about half full. She reached out and picked up a piece. 

To her right, he didn’t make any move to suddenly jump away-- and to his credit, that was a marked improvement over the last time she had been this close to him. Still, she was keenly aware of his eyes following her hands as she plucked another piece up and casually set it down in the correct pile. 

The two worked silently like that for a while, neither one acknowledging each other’s presence. With more than one person organizing the pieces, the bottom of the box was soon easy to see. Mariner scooped up a handful at a time, tossing the largest of the group into the circuit pile and another rounder one into the-- 

“Mariner.”

She stopped mid-toss. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that he was staring directly at her, waiting for her to acknowledge him. Feeling like she had no other choice, she shifted her legs around and leaned on her free hand as casually as she could so she was facing him too. 

He took a hesitant breath in before blurting out his next words.

“You don’t… you don’t really think I’m stupid. Right?”

She looked at him, really looked. Something about the way he was staring right at her-- eyes large, mouth downturned-- just made everything in her scream to stand up and run away. He was just always so painfully, eagerly _earnest_ for some damn reason. Every time she thought he’d learned his lesson about playing his cards close to his chest, he’d turn right around and beg for someone’s approval all over again. Maybe it was the fact that that expression of his was aimed at _her_ of all people was what pushed her over the edge. As the seconds ticked by, she became more and more aware that he was waiting for her to reply. But when she opened up her mouth, she immediately felt pinned by some imaginary force, scared to speak without thinking in case… 

_In case what?_ Just like before in the bunks, the small voice in the back of her mind badgered her. _What would be so bad if you just went ahead and said--_

“Woah-ho-ho, Bradward, I don’t know. You act pretty stupid to me.” 

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. 

Immediately, Boimler’s shoulders fell and his eyes seemed to darken. Instead of snapping back at her with an equally disparaging comment of his own or even an eye roll-- she would take an eye roll at this point, she thought desperately-- he just… sat there. Mouth set in a line, looking like he had just been slapped. 

A wave of guilt washed over her. Was the stuff she said really that hurtful that it warranted a look like that? It wasn’t like it was the first time she shittalked him a bit, but c’mon, he had to know that deep inside, she was just… being friendly. Friendly banter. True, it wasn’t like she had never tried to get a reaction out of him before with some of the things she said-- but in a teasing, fun way. _This_ wasn’t the reaction she was looking for. Not at all.

_Shit, shit, shit._

The feeling from when she saw him sleeping soundly stabbed at her heart again, even stronger and sharper this time. But to her horror, instead of fading away, it coursed through her. And then-- in a split second, before she could think twice-- she leaned forward enough to close the gap between them and pressed her lips on his. 

The first and only thing she noticed was how strangely soft the feeling she felt was. Maybe it was because her previous experiences with romance tended to hit hard and fade fast, but this felt… different. Not bad. But different. Far different than she would have imagined, for some reason. 

Then, almost immediately, she felt him tense up under her touch, shifting around but not breaking the connection.

Ripping herself away as quickly as she had leaned over, she saw the look of abject and complete shock written all over his face the second it came back into view. For a second, neither of them spoke, each one frozen in place staring at the other.

All at once, her mind seemed to catch up with her and she felt a great rush of heat come up her throat and face as she scrambled to her feet. 

“I-- uh…” she started to stutter out, but her throat felt dry. 

_Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck--_

Boimler didn’t make any move to reply, still sitting starstruck on the ground. A bit of pink had started to creep onto the tips of his ears and cheeks, she noticed faintly in the back of her still-screaming consciousness. 

Opening her mouth to try to explain herself once more, she paused and then quickly slammed it closed and turned on her heel. Sprinting down the hall, all she could think about what the hell she had just done. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boimler and Mariner talk about what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I did not mean to neglect this fic for so long, but life really was busy from December until now. And on top of that, I was a bit stuck on how to bridge the gap between the next part of what I want to write and where I left off. Thanks, past self. But anyway, my goal is to get this fic finished before season two starts. 
> 
> If parts of this chapter are a bit rough-- it's not you, it's me. I figured I'd either publish it now or sit on it forever, which wouldn't do anyone any good. Thanks as always for reading. :)

Boimler sat in the mess hall, facing the ever-changing collection of stars outside the giant window and absentmindedly holding the almost finished slice of pizza he had replicated a few minutes ago. Sure, he was hungry after finishing his last shift, and it was still warm-- replicator food really was freakishly fine-tuned for optimal consumption-- but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

_ Did that… really happen? Was that a dream? _

If it was, part of him wished it had lasted longer. He could still feel the phantom warmth from her lips if he really concentrated. 

Afterwards, he had finished the rest of his shift in stunned silence and went right to the mess hall afterwards, not even stopping to talk with Tendi or Rutherford during his break. Every time he tried to process what had happened, he just felt a new wave of shock come over him and knock him back to square one. She had  _ kissed _ him. In the span of a few moments, he had gone from believing she barely thought he was competent enough to do his job to suddenly realizing  _ something _ was going on between them. 

Mariner was gorgeous and ridiculously charismatic. It was an obvious fact, something he didn’t even register consciously some days. But more than that, she was genuinely one of the most interesting people he had ever met. At first, that statement may have come from a point of derision, but as he got to know her, he had slowly come to realize just how competent she could be and dedicated she really was to not only her job but the whole ship, even if she could be as equally irritating at times. 

The most confusing part of it all was where exactly he stood with her at times, especially considering how often she poked and picked at him. Her words ranged from lovingly teasing to things he found himself turning over and over in his mind at two in the morning. The more time he spent with her, the less he thought about her occasionally abrasive taunts, writing them off as just how she was as a person. After all, it was how she acted with tons of other people-- including the captain, which still shocked him. So it made sense she would give her friends some grief too. Although the more he thought about it… there were a lot of times she seemed to single him out in particular. How had he never noticed that before?

He shook his head. As he sat there a while longer, he realized that even now, the shock of the incident still hadn’t worn off. In fact, just minutes ago he had managed to numbly complete and submit several applications and personal essays he was procrastinating on submitting for various workshops and positions. Normally he found himself putting the intimidating final touches off until the absolute last minute, which went against his usual impulse to hurriedly finish whatever needed done. What had started as a nighttime routine-- laying back and typing as quietly as he could while the other ensigns drifted off to sleep around him-- had quickly become a source of anxiety for him the longer he went without getting any approvals. The best solution he could come up with was trying his best to not think about it all too hard, even if that got a bit harder to do each time he got a polite but brief rejection notice.

Shaking his head again, he brought himself back to reality. Focus, focus. After all, he knew  _ exactly _ what he had to do next. 

Clearing up his food tray, he headed straight to the replicator. 

* * *

Mariner bent over the open drawer, quickly shoving the slightly dirtied uniform into her storage area next to her bed. The faster she got ready, the faster she could hop up and pretend to be asleep when Boimler finally returned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw other ensigns milling around, some chatting and some focusing on their PADDs or freshening up after a long day, but all she could concentrate on were the thoughts running through her head. 

_ Holy shit. Of all the stupid impulses you have, you just  _ had _ to follow that one, huh,  _ she thought bitterly to herself, still feeling the heat creep onto her cheeks.  _ What the hell are you going to do  _ now _ , dumbass? _

Even hours afterwards, she couldn’t even bring herself to open the Pandora’s box of reasons why she had done what she did. Nuh, uh. No way. She had to put a pin in this as soon as possible, and focus on… all that… later. Hopefully never. 

Then suddenly, a small cough came from behind her.

She froze in place, knowing exactly who it was.  _ Dammit. _ Defeatedly slamming the drawer closed with her right hand, she felt herself tense up at the sound. Before making any move to turn around, she let out a quick breath and squeezed her eyes shut. 

Her first instinct was to just ignore him until the awkwardness between them eventually faded away, but she was  _ beyond _ sure that this was something he wouldn’t just magically forget over time. She’d have to be more direct. Which meant getting caught in the middle of an intensely shitty and personal conversation-- a situation she hated more than anything. 

Opening up her eyes and turning around, she braced herself for the inevitable yelling match that would soon follow.

However, what she got was something else entirely.

Standing in front of her was Boimler-- that much was obvious. But what really threw her was the way he was dressed: the front of his uniform was unbuttoned all the way down in a particularly unruly fashion to show the light yellow of his t-shirt underneath. And strangely enough, instead of his usual loosely combed crew cut, his hair was slicked up and straight back with some kind of oddly shiny gel. It looked almost like one of those weird styles in old Earth movies she had seen years and years ago just for kicks. 

“Hey, ba--” he started to say in what could only be described as what he assumed was a suave voice before seemingly losing his nerve and quickly switching to, “-- uh, Mariner.” 

Taking one hand out from behind his back, he reached forward. She could have sworn he was aiming for where her left hand was hanging limply at her side, but at the last second he seemed to pause and lean just a bit out of the way in order to nervously adjust the edge of the pillowcase lying on his bunk bed before straightening back up. 

Mariner was at a loss for words. Part of her wanted to laugh until her sides hurt from the sheer batshit insanity unfolding in front of her, but another, smaller part had to admit that maybe he didn’t look… that… horrible. The hairstyle kind of framed his face nicely.

_Oh,_ hell _no. Get. It. Together!_ _This is not sexy! At all! This is-- this is just-- holy shit!_ she screamed at herself in her own head, finally finding it within herself to open her mouth to speak. However, she was interrupted before she could start.

“I, uh… here!” Reaching his other hand out, Boimler revealed what he had been hiding behind his back the whole time. It was a single odd-shaped navy-colored flower, its petals opened to full bloom. “I know it’s just the one, but I saw it on Volente III when I had to beam down earlier today for an away mission, and I just thought it… looked nice.” 

As he held it out towards her, Mariner stared blankly at the flower. The edges were split and frayed, the delicate petals slightly stained from rain and wind in a way that only real plants could ever be. Interestingly enough, the shiny dark blue color was actually fairly close to her favorite color. Did he know that or was it just a coincidence? Had she mentioned that before? Maybe once. Huh. 

The thought also suddenly struck her that this was the first time she had ever gotten gifted something like this. Honestly, it was the kind of thing you see in corny romance holo-movies or something someone her parents’ age would do to celebrate a milestone anniversary or some other overly sentimental bullshit. Or maybe the gesture made her pause just because… she wasn’t really someone people gave flowers to. Ordered a few shots for? Sure. Affectionately roughhoused around with? Obviously. Asked along on shore leave to have some impromptu, mindless fun with? Of course. 

But gave flowers to? Not so much.

Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure how to feel. But instead of dealing with that, she shook her head and tried to stay focused. Gingerly taking the flower out of his hand and finally finding her voice, she managed to mutter, “Uh… thanks. But listen, we have to talk about--” 

Boimler held out one hand. “If it’s about the subwoofers, don’t worry. I got special permission to store them there.” 

“What?” Shaking her head, Mariner tried to refocus. She’d deal with whatever that was later. “No, Boimler, listen. I just… wanted to say that I don’t know if what you think is happening… is happening.”

That seemed to catch his attention. His face fell a bit, his smile dimming. “What do you mean?” 

Suddenly starkly aware of the crowd of ensigns getting ready to sleep and chatting around the two of them, Mariner reached out and yanked the sleeve on his shoulder, dragging him a bit further away and into a nearby corner outside the main hallway. It didn’t escape her notice that a slow, stupid-looking smile had begun to grow on his face in the meantime.

Once they were standing in the empty side hall, she took a deep breath and tried to collect her swirling thoughts. She may as well rip the bandage off as quickly as possible. 

“Alright. Listen. Maybe you should just forget that… that happened, ok? It was just a really stupid,  _ stupid _ , mistake and I don’t know what I was thinking.” Feeling herself cringe a bit inside at how raw and callous her words sounded out loud-- did she sound like that all the time?-- she clamped her mouth shut as soon as she finished talking.

For a second, he didn’t react.

“Wait… wait…” He managed to stutter out as his eyebrows knit together. She stood silently in place, taking in the way he seemed to be processing the words.

Then with a shake of his head, he spoke faster, clearly getting increasingly agitated. “So what? Was it a prank? A dare? You know, that kind of stuff was bad enough to deal with back at the academy, but I’m seriously--”

“What?” Mariner had to interrupt in disbelief. “Dude, that wasn’t a dare or whatever the hell you’re saying. I just…” She paused, biting her lip. It was impossible to find the right way to say what she wanted to say. 

He threw his hands up. “Just  _ what _ ?”

“I don’t know,” she hissed, leaning away and staring at the opposite port wall. Outside, the stars floated by. It was tempting to imagine floating away just like them, far far away from this whole conversation, she thought, as she tapped her right foot nervously on the ground. Her thoughts from earlier started to creep back, making her cheeks feel warm.

“What do you mean you  _ don’t know _ ?” he shot back. “You…” He flicked his eyes towards the main hall and back as he whispered the next words. “Kissed me. In case you forgot.” 

Twisting her head around, she shot him a look filled with venom. He shrunk back a little bit at her glare, but still held his ground.

“Ok, listen, I don’t understand,” he admitted plainly. “What’s going on here? I mean, you… seem to like me. I like you,” he added quickly, getting a little bit pink in the face once again. “So, why can’t we, you know, go somewhere with this?” 

She balled up her fists. “Because, I mean… come on!” Pointing her finger, she frantically gestured between herself and where he was standing, arms at his side. Before she could stop herself, she said the first thing unfiltered that came to mind. “Us? Dating? It wouldn’t work.”

He just stared at her, eyes still on hers.

“It just… wouldn’t,” she repeated as bluntly as if she were simply stating a fact. Memories of their many, many arguments flashed through her mind. And how often they had starkly different opinions on pretty much any topic under the sun. She couldn’t think of a person she more often butted heads with, and she was even including her mother on that list. 

“And how do you know?” Instead of wilting away at her candid reply, he challenged her directly.

“I just  _ do _ , Boimler. Trust me on this.” She sighed as she rolled her eyes. Her one hand traveled down her arm, feeling the fabric of her rolled up sleeves. “I mean… it would probably be fun and all, yeah, but it wouldn’t last.” 

_ Dammit, _ she thought wearily, starting to realize how much that hypothetical situation would hurt. 

Their relationship worked fine-- just fine!-- in the gray area in between; she could spend time with him, joke around, hang out alone or in their little friend group. It was good. Adding anything else felt like it would just… be risking too much. One moment of weakness didn’t change the fact that the two of them wouldn’t work on some fundamental level. Even if she was struggling to come up with a specific reason or example for her decision the longer she stared back at him. 

Finally, she spoke up again. “Ok, listen, I know I’m talking to someone who has almost no actual dating experience--” That rather blunt sentence earned her a glare from him, but she kept barreling on. “But it sucks to go through a breakup. Big time. It just makes things messy and weird when they inevitably don’t work out, and then,  _ then, _ the worst part is that you feel like you’re a complete idiot for even trying in the first place. Not to mention that we work together--” A brief flash of her mom’s face ran through her mind. “--and we have the same friends--” Another quick flash of Rutherford and Tendi sharing a look at the bar after work made her furrow her eyebrows. She sighed.

“Basically, there’s a lot of reasons. And most of all, I just… don’t really wanna mess up… you know… our friendship.” She couldn’t help but cringe a bit at how her bare and exposed words sounded when she finally said them out loud.  _ Wow, way to not sound desperate,  _ she thought to herself acidicly. 

Boimler slumped a bit at the shoulders at her last sentence, eyes searching hers with that slightly helpless puppy dog look he got once in a while. “But…” 

Then he stood silently for a few seconds, as he processed the whole conversation. She could feel her own hand nervously tapping her thigh as she stood waiting for him to say something. Anything. Neither one moved, and for a while it felt like they never would. But slowly-- almost imperceptibly so-- Boimler’s face softened and he tilted his chin up.

Finally, he spoke up, louder this time. “Fine. I’ll drop it.” 

She felt the tension she was holding in her shoulders slightly lessen. “Alright,” she echoed back with a bit more dullness than she expected to hear in her own voice. 

But a small pang in her stomach at the finality of his words made her grimace. For some reason, the first thing her mind landed on was the half-emptied bottle of gagh hidden in the corner of her personal storage area under layers of hastily folded uniforms. She had been saving it for some kind of extraordinarily shitty night, and it seemed like this one counted. Even if she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. Turning on her heel to leave, she shoved her hands in her pockets.

However, Boimler wasn’t done speaking. 

“But I think you’re scared.”

Mariner’s mouth fell open at the words. Instantly, she turned back around.

“ _ Seriously _ ? Are you joking?” Narrowing her eyes as best she could, she shot him a withering glare. “Wow, ok, I think the fumes from the warp core must’ve started to affect your brain or something, because there’s no way in hell I’m scared, let alone scared of  _ you _ . I mean, have you looked at yourself lately? Least threatening guy I’ve ever seen.” Just for emphasis, she swept her eyes up and down the length of his body.

“Yeah, well, not scared of me,” he continued to say in an even voice, neatly sidestepping her verbal taunts. “Scared of… I don’t know.” For a second, he paused, looking at her thoughtfully. “Something.” 

“You wish.” Her voice held steady, but she was nervously tapping her fingers on her crossed arms. “I’m just trying to save our asses. Again.” Then she quickly added for clarification, “Meaning, emotionally.”

“Hmm.” 

He sounded like he didn’t believe her. Not at all.

Then Boimler scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “So what? It’s better to be cynical and not try at all?” 

The words made her freeze up. 

“Wh-- No! I just think it’s stupid to pour time and energy into something that’s just going to turn out to be a huge, flaming wreck anyway.” Before she could stop herself, she added with more than a hint of snark, “But then again, that seems like a topic you know a lot about.” 

She had witnessed more than enough situations gone wrong to know his regular modus operandi: trying far too hard to impress Freeman, countless diplomats, the bridge crew-- hell, even fellow ensigns. His endless attempts never seemed to slow down; if anything, each failure just made him more likely to try even harder again the next time. 

Weirdly enough, instead of taking offense at her words, he seemed to straighten his posture. Looking her directly in the eyes, he replied evenly, “Maybe it is.”

Mariner could feel her cheeks heat up for some unknown reason.  _ What the hell? _ “Yeah, it wasn’t meant to be a compliment, dude.”

He held her gaze. 

“I know.” 

A moment passed where they both stood in silence before she finally looked down. 

Mariner broke the silence first, rolling her eyes and scoffing. “Alright, dork. You seriously confuse me sometimes,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

“I could say the same about you,” he shot back dryly. 

“Yeah, well… whatever.”

A beat of silence passed.

“So,” he began to say with a bit of hesitancy, adjusting the sleeves of his uniform and avoiding her eyes. “Where… uh, does that leave us?” 

Seeing him standing in front of her, waiting for an answer, made her pause. She knew that two choices lay in front of her. One required more bravery than the other, but she had never been one to not listen to her gut instincts. 

So, before she could stop herself, she heard herself replying, “The bar. After the end of our shift tomorrow. Our normal booth.” 

Trying to ignore the spike of anxiety-- and weirdly enough, excitement-- that followed, she turned on her heel and walked off as quickly as she could. 

Behind her, Boimler smiled wide.


End file.
